Tinsel (Lark Cove #4)(32)

“Come.”

I did on command, letting go as white spots consumed my vision. My back arched off the bench, the hand on my nipple flying to the bar behind my head to hold on so I wouldn’t fall over.

Dakota shuttered as I clenched around him, the pleasure washing over me in body-racking waves. The grip he had on my calves tightened as he thrust one more time and roared his own release into the condom.

We were both boneless and weak when he set my legs down. I watched through the mirror as he kicked off his shoes and shorts, then walked naked to a trash can in the corner to dispose of the condom.

He came back, still semihard. My eyes widened at his big cock hanging thick down his thigh.

“Had enough?” He held out a hand and helped me from the bench.

I grinned and shook my head.

That wicked gleam turned into a smirk as he reached for the collar of my flannel shirt. One rip and the few buttons I’d done up went popping. He yanked hard enough for the seams to split. The flannel was stripped from my shoulders and went floating to the floor.

The corner of his sexy mouth lifted. “I never liked that shirt.”

“This is much better.” I giggled. “Now we match.”

He chuckled, circling me with his arms and bringing his mouth to mine. Then he picked me up and carried me back inside and to his bed.

Where we did not do laundry with his sheets.




“You want to go home?”

I shook my head against his chest. “Can I stay here?”

“Sure.” He drew another circle on the small of my back.

I traced an invisible star around one of his brown nipples.

After we’d spent the rest of the morning in bed, we’d gotten up to shower and eat. I’d never had macaroni and cheese from the blue box before, something Dakota had told me was important. So he’d made me lunch and we’d eaten it in his lounge chairs.

I hated to admit they were comfortable and the drink holders convenient.

Dakota and I had done the dishes, then he’d taken me back into the living room. He’d flipped on the TV and pulled me on top of him on the couch as an action movie played in the background.

After our shower, I’d paired one of his T-shirts with a pair of sweats that were rolled three times at the waist. He’d donned nearly the same. But even clothed, we’d found a way to touch one another’s skin.

I had my hand up the front of his T-shirt while he had his under the back hem of mine.

Neither of us paid much attention to the movie. I expected in another thirty minutes I’d be fast asleep.

“How’d your family make their money?”

My hand froze on Dakota’s chest.

Money? He wanted to know about my money? Had I really read him that wrong?

I’d been so confident that he was different than the others. I’d been sure he hadn’t cared at all about my money. But he hadn’t waited long at all to bring it up.

I guess in that regard, he was different. My exes had all waited at least a month before asking about my money. They’d pretended to be interested in me.

But Dakota just cut right to the chase.

I pulled my hand from his shirt and moved to leave the couch, but the moment he sensed me about to stand, his arms pinned me tight to his chest.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I tried to get away again but he had me trapped.

“Sofia,” he warned.

“Dakota,” I mimicked.

“Talk to me, babe. I just asked a simple question. Why are you trying to bolt?”

“Was it a simple question?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Money,” I huffed. “It always comes down to money.”

Dakota relaxed his arms, but only so he could twist us around, pinning me beneath him on the couch. “You think I want your money?”

“Why else would you ask about my family’s money?”

He frowned. “Before me, have you ever been fucked by a real man?”

“What are you talking about?”

“A real man. Have you ever fucked one?”

“I’m confused.”

“Then the answer is no, you haven’t. By the end of this week, I’m going to be inside you enough so you can start to tell the difference.”

I blinked up at him, completely baffled. “What?”

“A real man doesn’t fuck you for your money. He fucks you because you’re gorgeous. Because you come like a rocket. Because you have eyes that show him everything you’re feeling. He fucks you because nothing has ever felt better.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. I don’t give a shit about your money.” With that, he let me go and stood, his fists clenched at his sides. “I was just curious. But I’ll just ask your brother someday.”

Damn it. He was different. I wouldn’t make the mistake of misjudging Dakota again.

Before he could walk away, I reached out and took his wrist. Then I looked up to him, hoping what he’d said was true—that he could read the apology in my eyes.

He sighed, shaking his head and relaxing his fists. Then he lay back down on the couch, positioning us both back in the place we’d been before.

I curled back into his side, slipped my hand under his shirt and placed my palm on his heart.